STAR-DUST I 
and GARDENS I 

^ 



Virginia 
Taylor 

McCoRMICK 

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CQBOIIGHT DE^SH^ 



STAR-DUST AND GARDENS 



STAR-DUST AND 
GARDENS 



BY 

VIRGINIA TAYLOR McCORMICK 



Vincit qui patitur 



1920 






COPYRIGHT, 1920, BY 
VIRGINIA TAYLOR MCCORMICK 



OEC -3 1920 



THE PLIMPTON PRESS 
NORWOOD'MASS-U*S-A 



©CI,A601802 



TO ONE BELOVED 



CONTENTS 

PAGE 

Foreword 9 

Belief 10 

Memory's Garden 11 

Ballade of Wind and Sand 13 

Song of the Desert 14 

Purple Lilacs 15 

When Spring Returns 16 

Poplars 17 

God Walked in a Garden 18 

Dandelions 20 

Hyacinth 21 

The Hermit 22 

The Elm 24 

Flood-Tide 25 

A Prayer for Life 26 

Rondeau 27 

The Painters of the Sky 28 

Vision 29 

The Land of Heart's Desire 30 

Song of the Blue Bird 31 

To A Flowering Peach 32 

The Good Gray Years 33 

Us] 



The Sail Boat. . . 35 

Faith 36 

A Child's Garden 37 

Poet's Narcissus 38 

Long Ago 40 

Cries of the Street 41 

Voici ! 42 

Eve's Dream 43 

Spring Calls to May 45 

The Lonely Garden 47 

The Baby 49 

The Dragon 50 

The Birth of the Flowers 51 

Hoar Frost 53 

The Forum 54 

The Rose and the Star 55 

Dawn 56 

Life's Joy 57 

Faith Resurgit 58 

Shakespeare 59 

The Moon Passes 60 

Robert Service 61 

Henrik Ibsen 62 

A Poet's Thought 63 

She Walks Serene 64 

The Mocking Bird 65 

The Empty Chair 66 

The Shell 67 

[163 



Rheims 68 

Norman Prince 69 

1917 71 

1918 72 

Mammy's Farewell 73 

The Aviator 75 

Resignation 'j^ 



n?] 



FOREWORD 

iyAWN! and the waves of crimson light 
Arouse the sleeper to work and fight, 
For the wheels of life must busily run 
And man must toil beneath the sun. 

Night! and the golden lamps are lit 
To pour their splendour where lovers sit 
And dream the dreams, exquisite, rare. 
Which grow from the star-dust scattered there. 



C93 



BELIEF 

JL HE time of golden hours and song is here, 
The hawthorn is in bud beside the stream, 
We see again the morning of the year 
Returning Hke some fragrant, cherished dream. 
The cardinal, amidst the apple bloom 
Pours from his throat a song of fire and dew, 
I breathe the purple lilac's sweet perfume 
And send a winged thought across to you. 

Nor time nor distance makes my love grow 

cold, 
Where'er you are, what Infinite Beyond 
Has lured you with its beauties manifold. 
No matter what strange garb your soul has 

donned. 
My homing spirit straight shall take its course, 
Swift as a seagull flies with outstretched wings, 
To mingle through Eternity with yours 
And wait the coming of eternal springs. 



Cio] 



MEMORY'S GARDEN 

FOR M. H. McG. 

X HERE'S a garden in my memory 
Where the choicest flowers grow, 
And the time is always summer, 
Not a hint of ice nor snow. 

Daffodils and crimson tulips 

With blue phlox about their feet. 

Pheasant-eyed narcissi filling 
All the air with incense sweet. 

There are larkspurs in my garden 

Mirroring the heaven's blue, 
Where the bees are gently humming 

Songs I listen to with you. 

Tapestries of green and purple, 
Fragrant as the breath of spring, 

Violets, o'er whose upturned faces 
Golden-hearted roses swing. 

Though the years have bent and aged me 
With the sorrows in their train. 

And my eyes are dimmed with weeping 
Tears that fall hke summer rain. 

When I walk with you at evening 

In my memory's garden fair. 
We are always young and happy. 

Gay our steps and debonair; 



For the perfume of the flowers 
Which the ghstening dew distils 

Is your spirit breathing through 
The violets and daffodils. 



1:12] 



BALLADE OF WIND AND SAND 



I 



KNOW the music of the spheres 
And why the year must have its spring; 
I know the dearest thought that cheers 
And why each sorrow has its sting; 
But naught can quell this joyous thing 
Which courses in my heart today, 
And sets my feet a-wandering 
Where wind and sand together play. 

I love the mists of April-tears 

Which o'er the earth their mantles fling, 

I love the summer which endears 

Itself to me by covering 

The woodlands where I walk and sing, 

With carpets made of blossoms gay; 

I love the wild, sweet whispering 

Where wind and sand together play. 

I long for autumn with its tiers 
Of sumac crested like a king, 
I welcome winter which appears 
All cloaked in white and hovering. 
Like robin with a broken wing. 
Above her nestlings brown and gray; 
But happiness is echoing 
Where wind and sand together play. 

ENVOY 

Dear Love stay with me, listening 
For breezes filled with salt sea-spray, 
And I will lead you wondering. 
Where wind and sand together play. 



SONG OF THE DESERT 

X LIE beneath the midnight skies 
And hear the tramp of passing feet; 
The gold of star-dust fills my eyes, 
The Desert's breath is sweet. 

An Arab of the Desert born, 
Her burning breast has held my head 
Through long nights, till the rosy morn 
Her panoply has spread. 

A mother's love I never knew, 
I was the child of wind and sun; 
Of golden sands and heaven's blue 
My web of life is spun. 

No kinship with the world I hold, 
There is no price upon my head. 
The Desert will no tale unfold 
When I am dead. 

Yet lying under Allah's lamps 
My soul has bridged the years which span 
From now to days of crowded camps 
And Singing Caravan. 

Mine were the echoing feet which rang 
Adown the passion-haunted path. 
Mine was the golden voice which sang 
Before Death's swath. 



ChH 



PURPLE LILACS 

X NEVER smell the sweet perfume 
Of purple lilacs in the spring, 
I never see their nodding bloom 
But that my heart begins to sing. 

The years fall from me in a trice 
And I am young and gay again, 
The world becomes a paradise 
And I forget the world-old pain. 

I dance upon the velvet green. 
My arms with purple fragrance piled, 
Of childhood's kingdom I am queen, 
Though long years I have been exiled. 

Ah! sweet to die, to leave the earth 
When purple lilacs are in flower, 
To wake again to a new birth. 
Incarnate with dreams of this hour. 

Plant purple lilacs by my grave 
And let my spirit come at morn 
To gather sweets which lilacs gave. 
Dear purple ones, when I was born. 



ITiS] 



WHEN SPRING RETURNS 



I 



WONDER why spring comes again 
To earth with you not there, 
And why the sunshine and the rain 
Should bring us flowers as fair 
As those your gentle hands have pressed 
In all the springs now gone, 
And why the willows stand new-dressed 
To greet the fragrant dawn. 

You can not see their beauty pale. 
Nor smell the cowslip's breath; 
The violets purple all the vale 
While you keep tryst with Death. 
You come no more, but know you this, 
If thoughts your spirit find. 
In every flower we feel your kiss, 
Your nearness in each wind. 



Cien 



H. 



POPLARS 

FOR JEANNE 



OW tall and slim and straight they stand, 
Yet bending to the summer breeze 
Like gracious ladies, sweetly grand, 
Incarnate once again as trees. 

In gala dress of shimmering green 
With silver lining peeping through. 
They beckon to the sun or lean 
To gather freshness from the dew. 

Their arms are stretched toward the sky 
In upward yearning for a soul, 
On moonlight nights I hear them sigh, 
Envisaging that distant goal. 

But sometimes there is deep content. 
Maternal croonings lull to rest 
With music low and eloquent, 
The turquoise in a robin's nest. 

Dear friendly visitors, the rains 
Come down to cool a fevered earth, 
Linked drop by drop in pearly chains. 
Whose beauty fills the trees with mirth. 

Shy laughter shakes the rustling leaves. 
Green, dainty fingers count the beads 
Upon a rosary which weaves 
For growing things a creed of creeds. 

1:173 



GOD WALKED IN A GARDEN 

FOR KATHARINE 



G 



rOD wandered in a garden fair 
Where flowers bloomed about His feet; 
The violets held the dewdrops clear, 
White lilies breathed a fragrance sweet; 
Blue harebells, bending to the wind, 
Rang out a tender vesper call. 
The rose her royal head leaned down 
To whisper with the foxglove tall. 

Between these lovely sentinels 

God walked and pondered what He saw; 

"A garden is a wondrous thing. 

Divinely sweet and full of awe. 

But wherefore should I come to earth 

To wander in the cool of even? 

I'll plant a garden marvelous 

To grow about the door of Heaven.'' 

And then He sowed the sky with seeds 
Of all blue flowers that earth has known; 
Delphiniums and iris pale, 
Fringed gentians of deepest tone; 
Forget-me-nots He planted there 
To make a footstool for His throne, 
And God sat down to view His work 
At even when the sun was gone. 



Ci8 3 



<( 
(( 



Methinks there something lacks/' he said, 

I'll make a coral-reefed lagoon, 
With milk of human kindness filled." 
We mortals think it is the moon. 
"And still there is a need of light 
Where all this perfect blue unrolls;" 
So where we see the stars at night 
God laughs with little children's souls. 



1:193 



DANDELIONS 

FOR L. C. W. 

A HE dandelions fill the field 
Like troops which march by night, 
And every one a golden shield 
Holds up against the light. 

A hybrid thing of weed and flower, 
At heart both shy and bold, 
They come like Ophir's golden shower. 
Go, ere their tale is told. 

But they are really never gone, 
They only change their guise. 
For when the glowing night is born 
They blossom in the skies. 

Now when I walk through meadows bright 
Their glistening bloom unbars 
A thought which thrills me with delight, 
My feet are on the stars! 



Cio] 



HYACINTH 

LJNDER the snow and the ice, 
In the womb of Mother Earth, 
I dream of evolution 
And my next incarnate birth. 

Shall I rise again in the springtime. 
Or He through an aeon here? 
Shall I grow a soul in the darkness 
And learn the meaning of fear? 

Am I reaching out to eternity, 
Or just to the hfe of an hour? 
Shall I come as the soul of a baby, 
Or the bloom of an exquisite flower? 



m- 



1:21] 



THE HERMIT 

FOR A. C. W. 



M 



EN pity me who pity them, 
Shut in by walls of more than brick, 
Where custom closes roads to thought 
And man's desire grows faint and sick. 
Where each is like his fellow one. 
Striving for gold in worldly mart, 
The sense of beauty dulled and dim. 
No joy of living in his heart. 

"Poor Hermit !'* so they say of me: 
"He dwells in bitterness alone." 
They do not dream the world and all 
Its beauty brings is still my own. 
In houses built by men for men 
They cannot know the deep delight 
Of forest's green and heaven's blue 
Which make my dwelling fair and bright. 

They can not know the furry things 
That scamper round me unafraid, 
Nor feel a thrill to hear the bird 
Who wooes his sweetheart in the glade. 
I know the music of the winds. 
The song the brook sings as it goes. 
And where the robin hides her nest 
And why each star must love a rose. 

I know where spring's first violet blooms, 
Her loveliness deep-hidden there, 

1:223 



And why the sun gets up so soon 
While summer scents are in the air. 
And when the winds of winter blow 
And all the trees stand gaunt and stark, 
I know why God sends gentle snows 
To keep the earth-seeds warm and dark. 

At night when I lie down to rest 
I see the pale moon's silver beams 
Which hide from you the lady fair, 
Who smiHng, comes to me in dreams; 
And as the little stars in groups 
Make festas for their queen, the moon, 
Beneath her rays a fairy brood 
Doth dance for me in elfin shoon. 

So every day brings fresh delight 
Of bird and beast and tree and flower; 
A fuller understanding grows, 
A new song comes with every hour 
To sing within my heart of hearts, 
To bring me hope, to still my fears, 
Till I lie down to sleep at last 
Lulled by the music of the spheres. 



1:233 



THE ELM 



Li 



JKE plumes against the starry night, 
While in your boughs a zephyr sings, 
Your beauty fills me with delight 
And makes me think of wondrous things. 

Of pastures green and running brooks 
Of mountains with their pine-clad tops, 
Of fancies I have found in books 
Of pearls a summer rain-cloud drops. 

Of love's young dream and motherhood. 
Of sorrow's deep and poignant pain, 
Of crystal springs in fragrant wood 
Where I might find my youth again. 



1:24] 



FLOOD-TIDE 

FOR N. L. M. 

J^ ROM the heart of the mystic ocean 

Comes the call of the Infinite, 

As I stand on the shore and listen 

In the summer dark, star-lit. 

I stretch my arms to the billows 

That break on the sandy beach, 

And I guard in my soul the lesson 

That only the sea can teach. 

The message is not for the many 

But only the strong, whose souls 

Have passed through the world unshackled 

And never lost sight of their goals; 

Whose feet have never stumbled, 

Whose heads have never been bowed, 

Who, dauntless have steered their passage 

Where the deepest furrows plowed. 

The Infinite calls me ever 

And I pray when my body has died, 

I may wait for the new life somewhere 

As a part of the great Flood-Tide. 



1:253 



A PRAYER FOR LIFE 

A H ROUGH every passion-haunted path 
Which marks the checkered way of Hfe, 
Lord let me walk unfettered, free 
To play my part, with instinct rife 
To feel each rising thrill of youth 
Or drain the bitterest dregs of truth; 

To know no fear that night may bring. 

To face undaunted each day's sun. 

To feel as youth is left behind 

That I a goodly race have run; 

Have drunk hfe's cup of joy and sorrow, 

Yet undismayed await the morrow. 

Give me a mind with knowledge stored 
That age may hold no terrors dark. 
But each succeeding day and night 
May gleam with memory's kindling spark; 
And when I've done with joy and pain. 
Oh Lord, let life begin again. 



Cze] 



RONDEAU 

vy SINGING Bird! I go upon a quest 
Of joy and o'er your finely woven nest 

I bend to see the jewels lying there; 

Turquoises meet to make a necklace rare, 
To shine in beauty on my Lady's breast; 

That warm, sweet place where I have longed 
to rest, 

My heart stripped bear and all my love con- 
fessed, 
The while I hear your music on the air, 

O Singing Bird! 

I see you poised in flight toward the West, 
Vibrant with passion, strong and unsuppressed; 
Ah me, to have a soul so free from care! 
A heart unfettered which would bid me dare 
Straight to my Lady's bower, that haven 
blest ! 

O Singing Bird! 



1:27] 



THE PAINTERS OF THE SKY 

X3EY0ND this world of beauty and delight 
There is a place where ships make into port; 
Where artist souls may work with all their 

might 
That evening skies with glory may be wrought. 

Today perhaps a Turner used his brush, 
The sky all crimson-gold and flecked with 

light, 
While scattered pink clouds in the evening 

hush. 
Were hurrying from the chill and dark of 
night. 

And then tomorrow a gentle, pastoral soul 
May paint a sunset full of home and peace, 
Where grays and blues and violets shall un- 
roll 
The harmonies of light that never cease. 

But I have seen the heavens all piled with 

snow, 
Behind whose pure delight of sculptured line, 
I know the hand of Michael Angelo 
And felt his master spirit in the wind. 



C^s] 



VISION 



I 



PRAYED for vision of the future. Lo, 
It came! And through the length of aching 

years 
I looked with bursting heart and burning 

brain, 
The horrors there too great to dim with tears. 
And now I pray for blindness. Not enough! 
Forgetfulness alone can ease my pain; 
Wipe Thou my sullied slate of memory clean 
And make me fit to face the world again. 



1:29: 



THE LAND OF HEART'S DESIRE 



s 



OME long for distant mountains bleak 
And see in dreams the stunted pine, 
Lone sentinel upon each peak, 
With arms upraised as at a shrine. 

And some there are who hear the call 
Of rolling plains, where deep blue skies 
Dip down like a cathedral wall 
And heaven itself is in your eyes. 

And one I know, a gentle soul. 
Loves mountain streams where silver trout 
Keep tryst within a great blue hole. 
And flash like lightning in and out. 

No matter where my feet may roam 
For me the land of Heart's Desire 
Is by the hearthstone of a home. 
Where crisps the crackling oak-wood fire. 



cso: 



SONG OF THE BLUE BIRD 

FOR ROSALIE 

X BRING to you dreams of springtime, 

As my song floats out on the air; 

I drop you seeds from the southland 

To grow in your garden fair. 

ril build my nest in your willow 

Whose branches trail in the brook, 

I'll sing to you through the summer 

From my swaying, leafy nook. 

ril flash through the dewy morning 

With a glint of the blue of heaven. 

On my breast the glowing colours 

Of the sunset sky at even. 

But when autumn winds are blowing 

With the wife and birdies new, 

ril follow the sun's course southward 

To the land where dreams come true. 



1:313 



TO A FLOWERING PEACH 



I 



PASSED you in the park today, 
Your beauty warmed my veins like wine, 
You stretched your arms to bid me stay, 
And breathed a fragrance half divine. 

Like bride upon her wedding morn 
Your limbs are veiled in mystic lure, 
With grace as of a startled fawn 
And charm half haughty, half demure. 

But you are false as you are fair. 
Your beauty but a passing show, 
Your painted lips a honeyed snare. 
Like courtesan's of long ago. 



CsO 



THE GOOD GRAY YEARS 

FOR T. H. W. 



Ti 



HE shining years behind me 
Lie Hke a winding road, 
Up which I travelled gaily 
No matter what my load: 

And there were gleaming rivers 
By which I longed to stop, 
But the steepest hills allured me 
With a promise at the top. 

It was a goodly company 

I led upon the way, 

Old hands reached out for guidance, 

Wee feet would sometimes stray; 

But always close beside me 
There walked a presence dear, 
Which filled the day with gladness 
And drove from night the fear. 

The paths my feet have beaten 

Ring to the sturdy tread 

Of coming generations, 

While the good gray years ahead 

Spread like a country road-way 
Where one may walk at ease, 
Or sit with friends at evening 
In the shadow of the trees. 

C33 ] 



In quiet hours of musing 
The wonders of the age 
Tramp by in great procession 
Upon my memory's stage. 

No matter what of pleasure, 
No matter what of tears, 
All things have come as blessings 
On my glowing road of years. 



n34ll 



THE SAIL BOAT 

FOR M. M. B. 

X\ SAIL boat lay at anchor in a sea 
Unrippled by a wave and seemed to me 
A symbol for the purity of Hfe, 
So white it was, so far removed from strife. 

But now the breezes stir and waves ride high. 
Gray gulls are white against a blackened sky, 
The Httle boats run in with quick alarm 
To seek a hiding place before the storm. 

Ah me! The sail I thought so virgin fair 
Is dark and drab, which fills me with despair 
Because I know that there has been no change, 
I only view life at a closer range. 



C353 



FAITH 



s 



TARLIGHT and silence and a silver sea 
Where rests a dying moon; 
Darkness envelopes me 

With scents of June. 

Into the Infinite my soul is driven, 
Where I must kiss the rod; 
Thence I return shriven, 
Having found God. 



1:363 



A CHILD'S GARDEN 

FOR GERTRUDE 



I 



SEE your merry, dancing feet 
At play upon the lawn; 
I hear your voice clear and sweet, 
Like piping birds at dawn. 

With tiny spade the warm, fresh earth 
You dig to plant your seeds. 
Then sit to watch the flowers' birth 
Without a thought of weeds. 

There's lavender for Grandma's sake 
And violets deeply blue, 
With buttercups which nod and shake. 
While pansies smile at you. 

Pink poppies flutter in the air 
Like balls of fairy wool, 
A lady-slipper, frail and fair. 
Brings dreams of woodlands cool. 

And over all I hear your voice 
And see your laughing eyes. 
Which always make my heart rejoice. 
Wee mirrors of the skies. 



t37l 



POET'S NARCISSUS 



I 



WANDERED into a pine wood 
One glorious day in May; 
The spicy breath of the forest 
Wafted me far away. 

I shipped on an ancient galleon, 
Whose bellying sail set straight 
For a port that I know in Dreamland, 
Where we enter a golden gate. 

The streets of this fairy city 
Are malachite, clear and green, 
With houses of lapis lazuli 
And gardens of bloom between. 

I heard the patter of footsteps 

And children's voices clear, 

I stretched my hands to the playmates 

Which my childhood held so dear. 

Then suddenly o'er my senses 
Stole an odour, heavenly sweet, 
Which banished my Dreamland fancies 
And brought me again to my feet. 

So pressing into the pine wood 
I came to a lonely dell. 
Where I found a poet's narcissus, 
With its secret ready to tell. 



ts^l 



And now from the far-off Country 
Where in dreams I love to roam, 
I come with my blessed secret 
To you, Sweetheart and home. 



n39 3 



LONG AGO 

TO A LITTLE BOY VISITING ME 



I 



FOUND him at the door one day, 
Quite unafraid and full of joy; 
He said, "I've come with you to stay, 
Because you have no little boy." 

He entered and the house was changed, 
It was the place of Long Ago, 
Whence I had been so long estranged; 
His presence set my heart a-glow. 

We played at games to childhood dear, 
From Long Ago my playmates came, 
Their eager voices, shrill and clear, 
Rang down the years with glad acclaim. 

He was my other self, I wean 
And I would fain have made him stay; 
His laughter bridged the years between 
Old age and youth to make me gay. 

Now he is gone I call in vain 
My playmates from the Long Ago; 
They do not hear me and again 
Life takes its uneventful flow. 



1:401 



CRIES OF THE STREET 

VV ITHIN my garden cool and green, 
I sit and hear the vender's cry, 
"Sweet oranges! the best you've seen, 
Sweet oranges! please come and buy." 

I hold a tome of ancient lays 

Where knights and dames in pageant pass, 

And while I dream of other days 

An echo calls, "Fresh sparrowgrass!" 

"Strawberries here and new green peas!" 
Is mingled with the Old Romance; 
"Bring rags and bones, ma'am, if you please" 
Where chevahers and ladies dance. 

"Fish, fish, fresh fish!" the raucous cry 
Breaks in upon a sylvan scene 
Where tilting knights in tourney vie 
To crown the fairest Beauty's Queen. 

So ever and again Today 

Across the pages of the Past 

Recalls me from Romance's way 

Where winds the huntsman's morning blast. 



Ui] 



VOICI ! 



Wi 



ITH bobbing heads the dafFodils 
Sway in the passing wind, 
A lover-bird with music fills 
The air so softly kind. 

The tulips stand stiff and sedate, 
Each row precise and trim. 
In new green coat the garden gate 
Swings to the breeze's whim. 

The dawn is lit with flaming torch, 
While spring displays her wares 
And in the shadow of the porch 
Aunt Mary paints the chairs. 



U^] 



EVE'S DREAM 



E 



^VE stood beside the bed of boughs 
Where lay her dearest, last-born child, 
Before her deep, clairvoyant gaze 
The pageant of the years defiled. 
Bowed at the shrine of Motherhood, 
Instinct with Eden's knowledge won 
At cost so dear to earth-bound eyes. 
Her heart's blood leapt to greet her son. 

With swift God-given vision she saw 
Him grown to manhood, strong and great, 
Seeking among the paths of life 
The perfect woman for his mate. 
Quickened to beauty's tender lure. 
Wrapped in the haze of earth's new morn 
Faint mystic sounds smote on her ear, 
Voices of women yet unborn. 

Eve dreamed and lo! she saw her life 
Fade into clouds without a trace 
Upon the path by which she went; 
No temple rose to mark her place. 
Not man's companion but his slave! 
Revealed to her own mind she stood; 
Her anguished heart sent out a cry 
Which soared into Infinitude. 

And now to her awakened soul 
New vision came, crystaHine bright: 
An azure sea spread wave on wave, 
Great ships rode clothed in rays of light, 

C43 3 



Freighted with all earth's treasures rare, 
Their goal the Land of Heart's Desire, 
Whose purpling twihght beckoned them, 
Her setting sun a beacon fire. 

The crimson West in glory called 

To grappling navies of the world; 

The heavens filled with splendour 

As their starry flag unfurled; 

From Eve's eyes the scales had fallen. 

Compassed she Infinitude, 

Saw the Greatest Ship make harbour 

With triumphant Womanhood. 



C44] 



SPRING CALLS TO MAY 



I 



WILL arise right early 
And go to the woodlands green, 
For such a maying as we'll have 
There never yet has been; 
I'll fill my arms with blossoms 
And load me down with boughs, 
I'll call a greeting through the world 
Young May from dreams to rouse. 

For she must enter blithely, 

With bird-song in the air, 

With canopies of flowers 

And sunshine everywhere. 

Last night the Goddess Flora, 

With fairies in her train, 

Set all the blooms anodding 

And quenched their thirst with rain. 

The mysteries of dawn unfold 
In waves of shimmering light. 
The sun in majesty appears 
To banish thoughts of night. 
The birds send out a matin call 
As they arise from dreams. 
The bees and butterflies awake 
And pass like golden gleams. 

The wee folk of the forest come 
To make a fairy ring 
Around an iris may-pole, 
Ablaze with blossoming; 



The gentle little furry beasts 
Slip out to join the dance 
And skip among the violets 
With mischief in each glance. 

Anemones are ringing 

Their spicy bells and sweet, 

As May-Day comes in splendour 

Her flowery train to greet; 

The lark from out of heaven's blue 

The welkin makes to ring, 

And I am here to lead you, May, 

Your elder sister Spring. 



n463 



THE LONELY GARDEN 

X WALKED about your garden 
In the dew-drenched early day, 
The sun hung o'er the mountains, 
The mist was Hke a spray. 

The cardinals and robins 
Poured music on the air 
But their songs were sorrow laden 
Because you were not there. 

The grass upon the hillside, 
A mass of tangled gray. 
Had lost its velvet greenness 
Because you were away. 

The flowers in your borders 
Looked pale and wan to me; 
They would not bloom their brightest 
With you not there to see. 

A flash of crimson beckoned 

From a corner quite apart; 

Where choked by weeds and brambles 

I found a bleeding heart. 

I bent my head in anguish 
To kiss the blood-red stain, 
Libation for the Princess 
Who will not come again. 

1:473 



So I left your lonely garden 
While my wonder waked anew 
That the sun should go on shining 
When the grass grew over you. 



1:483 



THE BABY 

FOR M. McC. R. 

\J BABY with the laughing eyes 

And dimpHng rosy cheek; 

You look so very, very wise 

I wonder could you speak 

If you would prate of far-ofF things 

Like dreamy Persian nights, 

Or tell us why the starling sings 

Beneath blue heaven's lights. 

Perhaps if your wee tongue could tell 

The secrets of your heart. 

The wooly dog you love so well 

Would play the leading part. 

To us who worship at your shrine 

And bask within your smile, 

You are a little god divine, 

Who laughs at us the while. 



n49 3 



THE DRAGON 

"His Hand hath brought forth the Winding Serpent." 

VJREAT Golden Dragon crouching in the sky, 
Before whose gleaming eyes small planets flee, 
God gazed upon the starry dome so high 
And from His Spirit could have fashioned thee 
To garnish that dark beauty with thy light, 
But rather chose to wrench a constellation 
From out the womb of deep, eternal night 
By His Own Hand, for future adoration. 
So ever when we kneel before thy shrine 
We see God's great obstetric Hand Divine. 



n5o3 



THE BIRTH OF THE FLOWERS 

A LEGEND OF OLD JAPAN 

VV HEN blustering winds of March still blew 
And snow lay thin in deepest vales, 
Sweet gentle Rain came down to earth 
With hesitating steps and new, 
As if she feared the wintry gales 
Might chill her heart or kill her mirth. 

So gentle and so merciful 

She poured her benediction sweet. 

The March Wind bowed his head and went 

Whither all winds go when they lull: 

The snow that lay about her feet 

With kisses pure and reverent 

Her misty, trailing robes received; 
But all too cold that icy breath 
To blow upon the spark of life, 
The heart of Rain was not deceived 
For Snow's caresses bring but death 
To passion in its youth's fresh strife. 

And now a wooer, bold and free. 

Comes joyously upon the scene; 

The Sun breaks through the clouds of gray 

And casting smiles on every tree 

Whipped bare by winds so fierce and keen, 

He bids them don their spring array. 



CSi] 



With tender little ways and sweet 
He wooes the Rain, that virgin maid, 
And with strong rays of golden thread 
He binds her close, feels her heart beat 
As one with his; all unafraid 
They seek the earth, their marriage bed. 

Their life together swiftly flown 
The one goes east, the other west. 
While fairy children spring to earth, 
Their flower faces gently blown 
By summer winds whose dear unrest 
Renews from year to year their birth. 

Now ever when the March Wind blows 
The Sun and Rain awake their love. 
And over all the wood and plain 
The violet and the briar rose, 
Anemones and fragrant clove 
Come out to deck the earth again. 



1:52] 



HOAR FROST 



A; 



.ROUND the house all night I heard the 

tramp 
Of footsteps lighter than a fairy tread; 
A cloudless sky with stars was overhead; 
The moon hung like a Pagan temple lamp 
And all the world seemed marked with beauty's 

stamp. 
A faint, crisp sound as if an arrow sped, 
A brown leaf falls which yesterday was red. 
The wind has gone and left no hint of damp. 

At dawn I gaze upon a virgin world 
Of crystal clearness, gleaming in the light 
As if a shadow cast by some pale ghost 
Through time and space its whiteness had un~ 

furled, 
Or dropped a heavenly mantle in its flight; 
Oh, magic gift of autumn. Silver Frost! 



C53 3 



THE FORUM 



o 



NE still, fair evening under summer skies 
I stood and drank my fill of beauty rare; 
A warm, caressing wind stirred in the air, 
The great Campagna stretched before my 

eyes 
And whirling groups of pigeons seemed to rise 
Like memories, from out those ruins where 
The glory that was Rome would fain ensnare 
Our hurrying feet and bid us solemnize 
This last, sweet hour of quick-departing day; 
To hold within our hearts a little while 
A silent service for those warriors gay. 
Who bore such treasure rich from long exile 
On ringing footsteps down the Appian Way, 
To make this glorious, immortal pile. 



1:543 



THE ROSE AND THE STAR 



B 



'ENEATH your flaming petals, heart of gold, 
You bear a hidden secret, sweet and rare; 
Soft whispers stir and perfumes linger there 
Which time itself can not make stale nor old. 
A radiant butterfly, marauder bold. 
Is hovering o'er you in the wind-tost air, 
As if he fain your honeyed sweets would share 
Or seek your crimson beauty to unfold. 

But you have seen the vision of the world 
And felt the presence of your avatar; 
Before you all Infinity unfurled 
To draw you as a loadstone from afar. 
And reaching out to heaven's dome star- 
pearled. 
You found and hold for e'er one gleaming star. 



C553 



DAWN 



Ai 



.BOVE the black of night the colours peep 
So gently, and without a sound they slide 
Into the sable sky where pale stars hide, 
Or seek for little clouds where they may weep 
With covered heads through long, dull hours of 

sleep. 
For Dawn insistent, comes with glowing stride, 
Her strength increasing like the ocean tide. 
Her colours changing now from pale to deep. 

Pearl passes into blue and maize to gold, 
Faint springtime pink is warming into flame 
And crimson waves across the skies unfold: 
One purple island, like some dainty dame. 
With shimmering mists would fain shut out 

the cold. 
But day is here, bright, luminous and bold. 



Cse] 



Wi 



LIFE'S JOY 



HEN I am gone dear Heart, remember 

this, 
That while I lived the joy of life was mine, 
Its richest pearls of pleasure gifts of thine. 
When clouds obscured the sun I did not miss 
Its glowing light, because thy burning kiss 
Made brighter gleams within my heart to shine; 
My veins were filled with love's warm-flowing 

wine 
And surely death can not destroy this. 

For death is but the keeper of the door 
Through which we seek in serried rank and file 
The great adventure, with its deep allure. 
Or wearied sit beneath blue skies a while 
To wait for loved ones, who with footsteps 

sure, 
Come joyously up life's highway mile on mile. 



lS7l 



FAITH RESURGIT 



T) 



HE frenzied tumult of the war still sings 
And seethes within my horror-tortured brain; 
Too numb to think, all effort is in vain. 
My reason flies on swift ascending wings; 
Night has no Lethe, darkness whips and stings 
With memories which ebb and flow amain, 
And wake to life pale ghosts which long have 

lain 
Asleep. And yet the pearl gray morning brings 
One hope of saneness, one clear, pregnant 

thought 
Evolved from out a faint and twisted wraith, 
My naked soul, its independence bought 
Through risking all against the dice of death. 
Thus pain an altar in my heart has wrought, 
Whereon I Hght anew the flame of Faith! 



Css] 



SHAKESPEARE 

FOR F. H. 



w, 



ITH beauty deeper than perfection's 

dream, 
With power that lesser souls may never reach, 
The songs you made like sparkling crystals 

gleam, 
Or drop like bird-notes, subtler far than speech. 
No earthly taint your joyous gift may mar. 
Through vast untrammeled ways your fancy 

free 
Once flung a laughing challenge to a star 
And waves of sound, throughout eternity 
Shall bring and bring again, these echoes 

sweet 
Like silver bells upon the frosty air 
That call to vesper-song high hearts that beat 
With hope to catch and hold such treasure 

fair: 
While you across the silver bars of heaven 
Shall lean and listen to your songs at even. 



1159 3 



THE MOON PASSES 

-ZVLOFT the heavens the great moon swings 

tonight, 
No cloud obscures her, nor a trembhng leaf; 
It is the harvest moon; on golden sheaf 
And ripened grain she gazes with delight 
And peeps at lovers hiding from her sight; 
At shy young wood-things, happy past belief, 
She smiles; her face shows not a trace of grief, 
Benign and calm she rides her way of light. 

Before the moon life's passions are outspread; 

Birth, death and all the littleness between 

Must quicken her to suffer or rejoice; 

A woman's anguished weeping for her dead, 

The happiness of motherhood serene, 

And love and hate are hers without a choice. 



ceo] 



ROBERT SERVICE 



H 



E'S gone! We can not understand his flight; 
Across that path our vision may not strain, 
As with unseeing eyes and throbbing brain 
We force compelHng thought into the night 
And seek to bring him back into earth's light; 
Ay, back into this world of tortured pain, 
Where we walk blind and can not see the gain 
To which Death points the road all shining 
bright. 

But he had seen the way; with that last smile 
Like Indian summer, warm amidst the frost 
Of winter, he would fain our hearts beguile 
Into the knowledge that no friend is lost, 
But waits for us and grows in that exile 
To fellowship with the Imperial Host. 



cei] 



HENRIK IBSEN 



G 



REAT Master, through the long and hon- 
oured years 
When you Hbation poured to form and art, 
Appeahng to the mind and not the heart. 
Too subtle and too perfect to bring tears. 
Your fame had echoed through two hemis- 
pheres, 
Where ever and again your words impart 
Deep learning, wisdom gained in travail's 

mart. ^ 
But voices in the air now fill your ears 
With mystic sounds and murmurings of strife; 
Since death has crept so near you unaware 
Art fades into the past, it is to hfe 
You burn your sacrificial flame so fair. 
With tear-dimmed eyes and souls where hope 

is rife, 
Men kneel and hght a thousand tapers there. 



/ 



n62 3 



A POET'S THOUGHT 

TO JAMES STEPHENS 

INaKED and unashamed a thought is born, 
A fledgUng thing which can not walk nor fly, 
Yet knowing not its mission it is shy 
And must be coaxed to strength, not Hghtly 

worn 
Where jarring sentiments or subtle scorn 
Its tender youth may crush or mortify; 
But rather let it nestle warm and dry 
Beneath your heart, the while you would adorn 
So dear a thing with raiment fitting fair; 
Wrap it in garments made of words so bright 
All eyes are dazzled by the splendour there; 
Deck it with jeweled words whose glistening 

light 
Shines Hke the glory of a woman's hair; 
Give it a sword of words with which to fight. 



1:633 



SHE WALKS SERENE 



s 



'HE walks serene, so calm and unafraid, 
Her head held high, her vision straining through 
The clouds which seem to hang 'twixt her and 

you. 
New hope is in her light elastic tread, 
Her soul shines through her eyes as if it fed 
On heavenly food, sweet manna wet with dew. 
Which morning's rosy dawn brings fresh and 

new. 
And ever and again her feet are led 
By devious ways and steep, where stumbling 

souls 
Less strong must fall and all unheeded lie; 
And I who know that through the bitter night 
Her broken heart is torn, her spirit rolls 
And mourns in grief because you are not nigh, 
I bow my head before her glorious fight. 



[164 3 



THE MOCKING BIRD 

FOR M. C. M. 



o 



N fragrant summer days when heat lies 
white 
Upon the meadows, in the bowered glade 
He sings the songs that other birds have made; 
Each vibrant note where pain and joy unite 
Comes from his heart which doth his soul in- 
vite 
Through music's language to a great crusade: 
The haunting sweetness of that serenade 
Sends waves of sound to heaven in happy 
flight 

And wakes within my soul the deep desire 

To soar on swiftest pinions far away, 

But night comes through the blaze of sunset 

fire; 
The silver moon sweet secrets would betray 
To you, O Mystic Bird! with you conspire 
To make the song which teaches me to pray. 



1:65] 



THE EMPTY CHAIR 



L 



^AST night I dreamed half sleeping, half 

awake, 
Of that time which I know must come to you, 
When I am gone and your dear heart so true 
To me in this sweet life must throb and ache 
With memories whose anguish needs must 

shake 
Your faith in God. The years have been so 

few 
That we have spent together; in review 
They pass like pearly mists which seem to 

make 
Of life a splendid pageant to be played 
Beneath deep skies which gleam with lanterns 

fair 
Through burning nights whose radiance can 

not fade. 
But glows into the days of dark despair. 
When down the aisle of years, through sun 

and shade, 
I see the vision of my empty chair. 



[166: 



THE SHELL 

jTxN elemental thing of air and earth, 
Close-welded by the ocean's briny tears, 
The sun god stood beside you at your birth 
To fit you for the music of the spheres. 
I hold your lovely pinkness to my ear 
And hear the songs of far-away Japan; 
The evening call of shepherds, sweet and clear, 
Or echoes from the lilting pipes of Pan; 
The springtime chant of many a mating bird. 
Blue swallows chirping at the close of day, 
And lovers' whispers by soft breezes stirred; 
The while a viohn sobs and seems to pray. 

A thousand years you lay beneath the sea 

To gather songs from moon and stars for me. 



1:673 



RHEIMS 

■ Rheims will become a Pantheon ' 



Ti 



HY stones on which the gods have breathed 
And artists died to make more fair, 
Shall take the brave who die for France 
And guard them with a mother's care; 
While o'er their sleep, in ceaseless watch. 
The Mystic Maid with shield and lance 
Shall wait to lead those gathering hosts 
When God shall call the roll of France. 

1916 



1:68] 



NORMAN PRINCE 



s 



OMEWHERE in the infinite space of blue, 
Your spirit is winging its endless flight; 
You couldn't rest or it wouldn't be you, 
Till the France that you love has won her 

fight. 
Some day on the skies' uncharted seas 
The bird-men sailing by ways unknown. 
Shall hear a leader's call on the breeze 
And follow the path to the victor's bourne: 
While you who have given your gay young 

hfe 
Shall find it again in the battle's strife. 



1:693 



igi? 



S 



HE sits with her delicate head bent low 
As the blue day fades into evening gray; 
Her hands still measure and fold the gauze 
But her thoughts are winging miles away. 
And we, who are watchers see only this — 
Just well-made rolls of a virgin white, 
The bandages made by a mother's hands, 
A mother whose son is making his fight. 

In her dreaming eyes these plain white rolls 
Form a tapestry woven of pictures rare, 
Whose groups are drawn by the artist Love 
And her man-child walks in his beauty there. 
Her golden babe with his crown of curls. 
His face a-beam with the light of youth. 
Gives way to a boy whose clear gray eyes 
Look out on the world in his search for truth. 

And now dear God, there are tramping feet, 

As stalwart figures in khaki clad 

Have covered the canvas before her eyes 

And her sorrowing heart would fain be glad; 

For there in the surging waves of brown. 

As she eagerly bends each face to scan. 

Is her golden youth and her proud heart sings, 

"I thank Thee God, I have borne a man." 

And somewhere out on the plains of France, 
When life is ebbing and day grows dark. 
These bandages wrought by love and skill 



Shall snatch from death his shining mark. 
For this mother-love is a wondrous thing, 
An arrow sped through time and space, 
Which carries its message beyond the world 
To the course where the stars and planets race. 



Cyi^ 



W] 



I9I8 



HO goes there?" "A Mother." 
"There is no place for you 
In the battle's rendez-vous." 
"And who are you, O Brother?" 
"I," quoth the voice, "am Death; 
I follow in war's wake 
Her choicest gifts to take, 
My sword I never sheath." 
"Take what you will of joy. 
By the path Mary trod. 
Straight to the throne of God 
I go to find my Boy. 
Out of my way, O Death ! 
My love was born of pain, 
Joy and sorrow alike my gain, 
I claim the victor's wreath. 
You know not love like mine. 
Each pang is keenest joy. 
If it but save my Boy." 
Death gave his place in line. 



CrO 



MAMMY'S FAREWELL 

FOR C. F. McG. 

VV HY sho' Mars' George, dat cyan't be you 
All dressed in soger clo'es, 
An' honey chile, ain't dat a sword 
What's clinkin' as you goes? 

It wan't no mo' dan yiste'day 
Ah helt you on mah knees. 
Ah members well yo' cuddlin' ways, 
Yo whispe'in, ** Mammy please." 

Ah members yo' firs' fishin' rod 
An' de day yo' went to school. 
Ah seen yo' steal dat sweetheart kiss 
By de elm tree at de pool. 

Yo' look jes' lak yo' Gran'pa 

In eighteen sixty one, 

When he tuk his ole squir'l musket 

An' went out to see de fun. 

\ 

An' yo' Gran'ma set an' waited. 

She sca'cely wept or spoke. 

But when de news come he wuz killed 

Her heart jes' tuk an' broke. 

An' now yo's gwine oflF to fight. 
Away acrost de sea. 
An' yo's gwine to wed Mis' Mary 
Wha' you kissed behin' de tree. 

C73 3 



Yo' look so big an' hansome, 

Yo' face jes' shines wid joy, 

But Gawd! Mars' George, Ah t'ink yo' still 

Am Mammy's li'l boy. 

Ah's sons an' gran'sons ob my own, 
But dey all Stan's outside, 
Yo's alluz filled ole Mammy's heart 
An' be'n her gre'tes' pride. 

So now Ah'll tek Mis' Mary 
An' gyard her safe an' true 
An' pray de Lord to let dese eyes 
When dyin' res' on yo'. 



n74 3 



THE AVIATOR 



o 



H, you who have circled on magic wings 
Through the infinite chambers of cleansing 

blue, 
Can you ever come back to earthly things, 
Can you find down here any work to do? 

Perhaps in the pathless flights through space 
Your spirit is quickened, your body freed, 
And we who are bound by time and place 
Unreasoning say that you are dead. 

Somewhere in the sky, unshackled, free. 
Through Time's unending, voiceless deep. 
Your spirit soars to victory. 
While earth-bound, we the vigil keep. 



n7s3 



RESIGNATION 



I 



NEVER thought that I should come 
To meet the world with smiles again, 
I dared not hope to feel surcease 
Of bitterness and frenzied pain; 
My heart so long had been at war 
With Fate which took my all and gave 
Naught but a cross in far-off France 
To mark my Dearest's lonely grave. 

Great Heart, so strong and sure in life. 

Yet gentle as a little child; 

What wonder that I stumble on 

The path your love has once beguiled? 

With breaking heart I lay aside 

Your cross with palms, your shining sword; 

Not these the things my spirit craves, 

One touch of flesh! One whispered word! 

"But give him back to me, O God! 
Broken in body, lame or blind/' 
This was the prayer I made nor knew 
Fate's bitterest blows are sometimes kind. 
Today before my gaze there passed 
A train of wounded men from France; 
Some had no legs, some had no arms, 
Some stared ahead with sightless glance. 

Trembling I turned my face away. 
Salt, stinging tears suffused my eyes. 
As in a vision, Heaven-sent, 

1:76] 



I saw that Death had been your prize. 
Dear Love, along the golden road 
To which Life held the open door, 
I saw you reach perfection's goal, 
Triumphant, whole for evermore. 



1:77] 



